The King's Heir
by Grave Bells
Summary: In which Myrrha learns that his father watches him much more than he thought, and gets caught up in a murder plot against those chosen as the Crown Prince. Pre-series; Husky's backstory. One-shot.


_**The King's Heir**_

Why was this happening again?

_How_ was it happening again?

Myrrha tore through the harem's circular halls, skipping and stumbling down stairs as he ran. It took all he had to hold in the horrible sobs as he ran past corridor guards, his face tilted into the stone floor to hide the tearstains on his cheeks. No matter how many times he wiped his eyes, the tears just wouldn't stop.

He hated the feeling of the hot water pouring down his cheeks. The disgusting, wet trails showed his weakness; they showed he could be controlled by his emotions. Weakness was not something he tolerated. Even now, at what he felt was his weakest, he couldn't stand the feeling.

The Sailandic Prince hopped the last two stairs in the stairwell and headed for the oasis without regarding the questioning looks of the guards.

His safe haven.

The place he could be alone to think, to avoid teasing and bullying, to deal with himself and bring back the strong mask that occasionally cracked.

This time, the mask had shattered. He knew it was quite possibly irreparable.

He stumbled down onto his knees, his legs giving out at the edge of the pond amongst the habitat. Terrible moans and yelps were finally set free from the lump in his throat. His face buried itself into trembling fingers, and his nails gripped themselves tightly into his hairline.

Everything was wrong again.

Prince Daishan had been murdered.

He was dead.

The entire idea was too surreal to Myrrha. He didn't know what to think.

Prince Daishan was the only one of his half-brothers to treat him like he mattered. He never teased him about the looks he inherited from his mother, or the awkward breathyness of his speech. He always ruffled his hair and praised him for the things he did. He was never forced into dresses, or shoved and mocked by Daishan. He was his favorite.

It was Lady Dylana who had found the Crown Prince's body. A jewel-encrusted rapier had been thrust into his chest while he slept. The talk amongst the Queens was that one of their own did it; that jeweled daggers were only issued to certain Queens. No one knew who was in possession of them, however, as such a prize ment you were in high standing with the King. If the other ladies knew, you would certainly be attacked.

Myrrha had found it all too easy to picture the handsome 16 year old in a pool of crimson blood, his brilliant green silk sheets dyed a deep red to every corner. His face would be mangled in horror, with bits of fear and pain mixed with surprise and regret. Blood would be trickling from his cherry, shapely lips, staining his majestic face.

The year before, Crown Prince Jackle had 'slipped and fallen' down 3 flights of stairs. No one had believed it was an accident, but no one knew who to suspect. The reports had told that his skull had been shattered by a long pole an inch in diameter, but there were countless objects that looked as such among the halls of the harem.

Myrrha couldn't believe he'd just lost another brother. He couldn't believe he'd lost _Daishan,_ of all of them.

Somehow, he allowed himself to openly wail in sorrow as he sat keeled over by the edge of the pond. His nose leaked thin, clear mucus over his lips to dribble down off his chin with his burning tears. Having little physical outlets, he alternated between ripping up the grass and pulling at his silver-blue locks.

His favorite sibling… He'd never see him again; never feel the warmth of his hands in his hair, or hear his soothing voice. He didn't know what to do anymore.

"Myrrha?"

The boy almost immediately caught his wails in his throat. He tried to stop the visible trembling and the still rushing tears, but found himself too weak to fix even a bit of the mask so quick. He remained staring at the grass, white teeth biting into his lower lip.

"Son?" The voice was closer now. It was warm and thick, and somewhat calming. Myrrha did not hear his father's voice often.

The prince tried his hardest to answer the man now crouched to his left, but when his mouth opened, all that spilled forth was a strangled cry of anguish. He quickly covered his mouth with his hands, ashamed of having such bad composure around his kingly father. A future leader was strength, not a puddle of tears

He didn't expect the tall man to reach around and gently pull him into his chest.

Myrrha blinked a few times as he took in his father's warmth. The sleeves of his majestic robes and long strands of silvery white hair encompassed the young boy in a shell of comfort.

"Cry, my son," the King whispered, hugging his child as close as he possibly could.

Myrrha couldn't pass up the opportunity. He didn't even have to let go, he just exploded.

It felt nice to be engulfed in his father's arms. Usually his mother was the only person to comfort him, and that's only when he chose to show something was wrong. He had never been comforted without asking.

But still, it felt like everything had finally crumbled. He couldn't keep up his act anymore. It had gotten too painful.

Myrrha didn't know how long he sat there with his face buried in his father's royal garbs, his fingers clenching tightly into his palms to the point where they almost cut his skin. He had completely soaked the chest of the man holding him with undying tears. He figured the King would mind, but once the prince finally pulled away, all he found was a sad smile adorning his visage.

"Are you alright, dear boy?"

Myrrha nodded slightly, sniffing noisily while wiping his eyes. "Y-yes sir, I think so."

"You always carry such a strong façade. It is quite odd to see you in such a state."

The Prince smiled gently, forcedly, rubbing an eye with the back of his hand. So this man knew he was constantly fake. He never knew he was watched so closely by his father.

"Myrrha," the king cooed, gently tightening his grip on the boy's shoulders. "Are you afraid of being weak?"

Perhaps _too_ closely?

Said boy gawked. How did he notice _that_?

The King chuckled. "You have much to learn, son."

"Yes, sir," Myrrha mumbled, allowing himself to be eased forward into the arms of the long-haired man. He sighed gently through his nose and wiped at his face again.

"As an example," the King murmured, nestling his song safely in his arms as they continued to sit on the grass. "There is a difference between strength, and the fear that makes you want to appear strong."

The prince's eyes fell on the kois in the pond to their left. He hated being treated and seen like a girl. Girls were weak and fragile beings who needed people to protect and look after them. Men were strong and independent; they didn't need people to rely on. Men were perfect. He was trying so hard to reflect that emotional perfection, and now he was being told it had never worked.

"But," the man continued, reaching up to pet Myrrha's hair sweetly. "What makes someone truly strong, is to know when to be weak." He moved to comb the silver-blue locks through his fingers. "You are young. Now is a proper time to grieve. You have nothing to be ashamed of, little one."

Myrrha hadn't felt so calm in a long time. He didn't know much about his father besides what was told to him by his mother, so this time to sit and have a heart-to-heart with him made him feel not only special, but relaxed. He'd never been wrapped in something so warm and comfortable before.

"You are a very compassionate being, aren't you Myrrha?" the King didn't visually notice the tilt of his sons head as the boy looked up at him questioningly. "I've seen you help the collys and the sparrows who live in these trees when your brothers and sisters have ignored them. And you feed the koi, don't you?"

The prince looked back towards the pond, bashful and a bit embarrassed at his actions.

"Y-yes, sir…"

"I also feel you want to be liked and respected by your siblings. Is that why you act so stubborn all the time?"

Myrrha sighed. "Yes, sir…"

The King leaned down a bit to place a small kiss atop his son's soft hair. "Do not be ashamed of your looks, my son. You will be a well desired man someday. You are the perfect combination of Marein and myself; strong willed, determined, and irresistibly gorgeous."

Myrrha's face scrunched. What a weird thing to be told by your father.

"You have serious potential." The King gently released his young son and gripped his fingers firmly into his small shoulders. Pushing the boy away from his chest, he stared down with a serious expression. "My son, I have horribly important matters to discuss with you now."

Myrrha felt his heart begin to pound. Important matters were rarely ever good things when it came to the King.

"You have my full attention, sire," he spoke obediently, staring down at his thumbs as he wiggled them around.

"In light of Prince Daishan's death, it is my duty to immediately appoint a new heir," the King spoke seriously, his grip never faltering. "As you know, the position of Crown Prince will usually be given to the eldest son…"

Among his nervousness, Myrrha was feeling confused. Keen was the eldest son under Daishan, and there were six or seven boys between him and Keen. So, why was his father talking to _him_ and not Keen? He was no where near next in line for the throne.

"However."

The Prince's heart pounded.

"I do not believe Keen will be mature enough to handle the training the follows being Crown Prince until he is 13 and considered an adult. And," the man paused a moment. "I do not believe Keen could run my country the way you could one day."

Myrrha didn't realize he's stopped breathing until he took a sharp intake of air. He chewed on his lower lip nervously, then opened his mouth. He shut it again, hesitating. This was every prince's childhood dream.

"S…. Sir?" he finally spoke, his voice quiet and curious. "Are you… Are you asking me to… be your new heir?"

Myrrha swore he could hear the smile in his father's words as he answered the question.

"If you would consider the position, I would be extremely happy to have you be my heir." The King's arm encircled the boy one more, pulling their torsos together in a firm hug. "I have faith in your future abilities."

The prince was in quite a bit of shock. He never expected someone like him to even catch his father's eye politically. Sure, the King had always shown interest in his looks and the like every since he was little, but to be candidate for heir? He would have never seen it coming.

He was nervous. He never wanted to become heir. Myrrha had heard stories from Daishan about the horrible and important things the King had to deal with. He didn't want to run people's lives. The whole idea of it was unattractive. While he knew his mother would understand if he turned the offer down, since she was here out of love and not power, he was intimidated by his father. You needed to be some special kind of person to be named heir out of traditional order. He didn't know how his father would take it.

So, Myrrha smiled as best he could, his head tilted towards the King's face, and humbly accepted.

--

Myrrha began training immediately. He rarely left his father's side now, as heir training required so much knowledge and dedication. He found it stressful and was constantly struggling to do things right and keep up with schooling. The lectures had gotten considerably more difficult, as the Crown Prince needed more than theoretical knowledge of ruling a country. His brothers, especially Keen, began to take it upon themselves to teach him another kind of lesson, and would hardly leave him alone in his down time. He knew they were jealous and angry that someone like 'Husky' would ever be worth the position of heir.

Some good did come of it all though, as he began to form a close bond to his father. He began to understand what kind of man he was; what kind fo attitude he held towards the well-being of his country.

It was then that be discovered his father's great hatred of +Anima.

Myrrha never found out the reasons behind forcing +Anima and Kim-Un-Kur to be slaves to the people of Sailand. His father refused to explain whenever confronted with a question involving his opinion of +Anima. One could only imagine what kind of trauma he'd experienced to make him hate them so much.

It didn't take long for Myrrha to start cracking again. Four months into his training, he blew up at his tutor and succeeded in hitting him with one of his history books. The next day, a group of his step-brothers ganged up on him for an unusually annoying and physical bullying session, which in turn ended with Keen being sent to the medic with a broken nose. His mother was confronted later that evening by Keen's mother, Lady Dylana, who was practically shrieking with anger over Myrrha's actions towards her son.

He never did get to see that situation simmer down.

Myrrha casually made his way down one of the Harem's many flights of stairs, his eyes red and watery from unshed tears. He gave the guards each a polite nod, pretending there was nothing wrong.

This wasn't something to be acting so weak about. He couldn't show them anything but how he brushed off stress like it was nothing. He was the Crown Prince now; he had the future of the country on his shoulders. His mask was important now more than ever.

The Oasis.

He needed his safe haven.

The little garden never judged him.

It was becoming routine to go there every week; to unstress a little before the duties of the next day. He loved the little place, and the kois always welcomed him. The quiet flow of the water and the rustling of the trees were so calming to a mind in turmoil.

The King expected so much from him.

Myrrha knew that his father had begun to believe that he was going to be just like Daishan, and be able to handle pressure and responsibility like an adult, but he was 10. He was 3 years away from being legal, and much farther away from being at a point where he could handle the stress of the preparations of taking over a country.

Hiccupping a bit, Myrrha stood at the edge of the pond in an emotional silence. His wet, leaking blue-purple eyes gazed at the moonlight dancing over the water through the trees. He couldn't help but smile; it was so beautiful. It made him wonder what real, natural beauty looked like. This garden was basically installed. So what was a real forest like? A real lake? A real hillside?

And then, he was drowning.

Thrashing and gasping, Myrrha vainly attempted to keep his young body afloat in the surprising deepness of the pond. Whirling around in the water, he found himself staring up at the backlit figure of a woman who appeared to be seething and ablaze with fury. Before the Prince was drug down under the surface, he heard a familiar voice scream at him from the banks.

"It's all your fault! You and Marein!"

Taking one final gulp of air, Myrrha sank into the pond.

Despite the fact that the woman on the banks above his head had obviously been the one to push him in, he reached up for the dying shadow of Lady Dylana's rippling figure in a final desperate cry for help.

He didn't want to die.

Not here, not like this.

Involuntarily gasping for air, his whole body began to burn and scream from the rushes of water entering his lungs from both nose and mouth. The prince began clawing at his neck and face, choking and squirming. After instinctually repeating said inhaling like the water would suddenly have become air, he knew struggling would never help him. He was dead. No one was going to fish him out; no one knew he was drowning. He gave up and let himself relax in the water, watching his last bubble of air float from his open mouth towards the dark surface.

A koi swam by.

Then another.

And another.

Myrrha's eyes widened as he fought for the consciousness he was beginning to lose, completely taken aback by the sudden quantities of fish huddling close to his sinking body.

The next thing he knew was excruciating pain. When he tried to scream, he could feel his neck rip open in four places. A gentle release of pressure in his sinuses left him a little light-headed, making the sensation of his legs being crushed and rearranged all the more painful and unpleasant. Bolts of warm sharpness shot through him as something stiff and thick climbed down his neck and body, four new places on his chest being cut open in a swift slice. After a rush of pressure escaping his chest, he inhaled and gasped through something that wasn't his mouth and nose. He could breathe.

The transformation continued for what felt like an eternity, but in reality only lasted for 10 or 11 seconds maximum. Exhausted, panting and thoroughly confused, Myrrha looked at the koi floating around him for an explanation. The fish gaped mindlessly for a moment, and then idly dispersed without a word. Frowning, the boy began to check himself over.

He couldn't help but gasp.

He had fins instead of legs. The dull ache in his spine and hips came from a pair of side fins and a dorsal fin. Myrrha scrambled to touch his throat. A thick, scaly skin was wrapped around it, and near the conjunction of his neck and shoulders were two flaps on skin on each side. He had gills? A little confused, he reached for his torso. Inserted into the equally thick skin over his ribs were two flaps almost identical to the ones on his neck. …He had gills on his…?

Something suddenly clicked.

He was a fish.

Even more, he was a fish _+Anima_.

The koi saved his life.

The prince almost found himself grinning. He could run from Sailand now. He could go to Astaria and start life as a commoner. No one knew who he was; he could be free to do whatever he wanted. No more duties as the heir to a throne he never wanted to inherit.

Besides, he couldn't stay here anymore without becoming a slave. What kind of Crown Prince would become a slave? It would be better for everyone to think he was dead.

Giving the surface of the pond one last look, silently apologizing to his mother for the trouble, he turned and swam down towards the entrance to the water system of his former kingdom.

--

As news of Prince Myrrha's "suicide" began to circulate, a major suspicion began to peek with it. 3 heirs were killed within a few years, and the deceased in question were all found by Lady Dylana. Her own son was placed into the position of Crown Prince, and no threats had been made on his life. Rumors went around that she was murdering heirs to get her son into the position, and she became very quiet.

Marein, who had been in utter shock at the sudden "death" of her son, spent most of her time pondering the circumstances. In the months following the incident, Lady Dylana avoided her as if guilty of some horrible act, and Marein began to wonder if the rumors just might have been true. Dylana was a stubborn woman who always got her way no matter what the cost. She would not have been surprised of the woman _had_ killed her son. But, she always had this weird suspicion her boy wasn't really dead.

Why? Well, see, they never found his body.


End file.
